Letters
by MomentaryInjustice
Summary: The only Georgians he could assume had any way to contact him were his ex-wife and his daughter. The latter he hadn’t heard from in years, and the former wouldn’t talk to him if her life depended on it. An extension from a piece in my series "50 Pieces".


**Title:** Letters

**A/N:** This a requested expansion of a piece from my story _50 Pieces_. I highly recommend you check that one out... mainly because I want you to read it and tell me what else I can write. :) In this piece you'll find no specific pairings, which is a shock for me. All information about McCoy's family my own creation. The only thing I got from the movie was that she was a bitch... Otherwise, I made the rest up. As always, reviews are appreciated. Enjoy!

* * *

There were three things odd about the package in Leonard McCoy's hand. Firstly, it was an honest to goodness paper letter. Very rarely did anyone bother with writing letters anymore. In an age where anything could be communicated through video communications or electronic mail, the good old paper and pen way of communication had become a thing of fashion.

Secondly, it had been delivered to him while was aboard the _Enterprise_. In a stunning coincidence, the ship had just left space dock after a quick refit of several of the console systems. Because they were still within transportation distance of the Starfleet facility, an officer had beamed aboard and delivered the letter before the ship went back out to explore brave new worlds.

Lastly, the letter's return address held no name, only the state of Georgia and a zip code. This was perhaps the most odd thing of all, because hardly anyone back in the home state... hell, hardly anyone outside of Starfleet... knew of Dr. McCoy's location. The only Georgians he could assume had any way to contact him were his ex-wife and his daughter. The latter he hadn't heard from in years, and the former wouldn't talk to him if her life depended on it.

The voice of Christine Chapel calling him to the exterior med-bay shook the man from his thoughts. With little more thought to the oddity, McCoy tucked the letter in his inside pocket and went about his work. He would investigate later. Right now he had to be a doctor... not a damn detective.

Eight hours later he was exhausted. Yearly immunizations had kept him on his feet all day, and an engineering slip up had kept him to the elbows in blood and bone for the past forty five minutes. It was a messy incident, no doubt, but everyone was expected to make a full recovery. The doctor had thought no more about the letter in his pocket until he was stripping for his shower and it fell out onto the floor. He almost laughed as he walked the still sealed envelope out to his desk and then returned to the stream of hot water that awaited, ready to wash off the blood.

Feeling fully refreshed, McCoy sat about the task of pouring himself a glass of scotch and kicking his feet back at the wooden desk in his quarters. He picked up the envelope and turned it over in his hand, judging its weight and questioning its contents. _It could be alimony papers_... he thought with a sigh. But that wouldn't be right. She had all the money. Besides, if she had wanted anything from him, the request would have been much more showy than a hand written letter.

After five minutes of staring at the damn thing, he felt thoroughly stupid. It wasn't like he should be afraid of it. It was a damn piece of paper. Pulling on a false bravado he removed the paper from its envelope and unfolded it. The first line caught him off guard. _Dear Daddy_... He read the line over and over again until he felt his heart would explode. His lungs ached with the release of a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He held off the elation at seeing her handwriting, her thoughts, her words to him. This could still be a really bad thing he held in his hands. He forced himself to read on...

_I don't know if you'll believe me, but I really hope you will. I've been writing you letters every month since I was twelve years old. I would give them to Mom to send to you. Turns out she would throw them away and leave me thinking you were too busy to deal with me... that you didn't care. I'm so sorry, Daddy. I'm so sorry I believed her. _

_But that's in the past. I can't change it, and neither can you. I'm eighteen now, and I'm sending my own letters. There is so much I want to tell you, but I don't know where to start. I still remember you, or at least I do a little bit. I remember you smelled like new leather and some form of bleach. I remember you took me horseback riding when I was three. I remember that you sat on that saddle with me for four hours, and even though you couldn't walk the next day, it didn't matter because I was happy. _

_Mom tries to tell me that you were a horrible person... but I don't belive her. Because the Daddy I remember didn't drink his life away... he bandaged my skinned knees when I fell off my first hover-board, and then he healed them with kisses and a Popsicle. The Daddy in my head never yelled and screamed at me if I cried... he said a quiet prayer over the grave of my goldfish, Zeus, who died when I was two. _

_I want to tell you that I love you. I've been trying to do that for six years. I told you all about my first boyfriend, my first car, my first prom. But you never answered. I guess I just through you were busy, so you ignored me. I want to tell you that I don't hate you, Daddy. I never did. Even when I thought you ignored me, I never hated you. _

_I feel there is so much to say to you, but I'm not even sure you want to hear it. I hope you do, but I can't be sure. I'm attending Starfleet in the fall, and I thought that maybe the next time you have some time available... well maybe we could see each other? _

_Until then, much love and all my prayers. _

_Your daughter. _

McCoy read the whole letter through twice. He tried not to stick on the things that made him angry... his wife's generally bitchy action, for instance... and rather moved on to the things that caused a heat of pride to swell in his chest. She loved him. She wanted to talk to him. He was being given a second chance. Right then and there, he thanked his lucky stars.

He wondered how he should respond. Writing her back was out of the question. It would take to much time. He didn't have her personal com frequency. Chances are he could have Kirk search through Starfleet enrollment records. This letter was dated five months ago, she would be a cadet by now. He could get her dorm com number and call her. He could see her face. He could see it as soon as today. Without a second thought he called the bridge.

"Bridge here." It was a male officer.

"Is the Captain on the bridge?" McCoy asked gruffly.

"Commander Spock has the command, Sir." The response caused McCoy's face to fall. Great... He couldn't ask that pointy-eared bastard to go snooping through Starfleet records. "Is there something wrong, Doctor McCoy?" It was Spock's voice now. He had apparently taken the station upon hearing his name mentioned.

"No, Commander," He thought for a moment. The idea of seeing his daughter, of hearing her voice after so many years, overwhelmed his prejudice. "I have a favor to ask you. Can I get you to search Starfleet records for a newly enlisted cadet... Cadet... McCoy. Probably. Or Johnson. Female. Around eighteen or nineteen."

"Is this relevant information, Doctor?"

"Consider it a medical emergency, Commander. If you could personally bring me her com number when you retrieve it, that would be acceptable."

"I don't believe I am able to disclose such information in association with Starfleet regulation..."

"Look!" McCoy cut him off harshly. "I can't necessarily outrank you, Spock, but I'm asking you as an... equal... find me that number. McCoy out." He cut the transmission before Spock could reply. He hated to admit it but the man was right. Requesting something as personal as a com number for a cadet in the absence of an emergency was strictly unprofessional. Still he couldn't help but growl that Kirk would have done it without question.

As it was, he had given Spock the task, and he could only hope that the Vulcan would come through. Having nothing to do but wait, McCoy paced the room several times, washed his hands, shaved, and was in the process of pulling on his blue uniform shirt when the door buzzed. He finished dressing quickly and hit the button to open the door. Spock stood in an equally crisp blue shirt and handed him a piece of paper. In cramped handwriting McCoy read seven numbers and a name. His daughter's name. He couldn't help but smile.

"Thanks." He made to close the door but Spock had slipped his foot in the track so that the motion sensor would not work properly and the door would not close.

"May I inquire as to what medical emergency required this contact be found?" Oh, McCoy had thought that he was going to be able to get away easily. Perhaps Spock had a change of heart. Wrong. He mentally cursed. In situations like this he figured honesty was best.

"It's my daughter, Commander." He spat. "I haven't seen her in 15 years. Now if you don't mind kindly remove your appendage from my doorway before I have to _re_move the damn thing..."

"I do not understand." Spock stated simply. McCoy gaped. "She is your offspring and yet you hold no contact with her. Fascinating. On Vulcan such an action would never be allowed."

"Well this isn't Vulcan." McCoy growled. "And I hate to break it to you, but Earth isn't necessarily perfect."

"I didn't mean to offend you, Doctor, I was merely observing." For some reason McCoy thought he meant it.

"Look, I just want to call my daughter." The man sighed. "You can lecture me later about the failures of my parenting in comparison to the extremely kind form you received on Vulcan, okay?"

"I have no desire to conduct such conversation." McCoy had turned away. He held up his hand with the piece of paper in it.

"Thanks again, Spock." He said it in such a manner that made it clear the conversation was over. Spock moved his foot.

"I wish you the best of luck, Doctor."

It took McCoy ten minutes to ready himself for the call. He could only pray they were within acceptable range and that the picture would come through fine. With shaky fingers he dialed the seven digit com code. He waited with bated breath as black and white static danced around the small view screen in his quarters. "Hey!" A chipper voice floated through the sound system. His heart leaped as a picture of his daughter materialized. "I'm not available at the moment, but if you leave a message and a com number, I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

It was a let down, to say the least, but McCoy was still flying high. He memorized every aspect of her message. Her hair, her red cadet uniform, her eyes, the laugh to her voice. She was beautiful. "Hey... hey baby girl. It's your dad. Ummm... I got your letter. I know you wrote it a long time ago but... well it takes a lot of time to get a message to space."

"I'm out here on the _Enterprise_," He continued. "Your dad. Imagine that." For some reason tears threatened the corner of his eyes. "Anyway..." He coughed. "You have my com number now, and I have yours. Just call me here, anytime, and I'll be here. Well..." He paused. "I better get -"

"DAD! Wait!" Her voice caused him to jump. The picture had changed. He was no longer looking at a prerecorded message, but rather a darkened dorm room. By the light of a small lamp, a young woman was sitting on the edge of a bed. Suddenly McCoy felt even more stupid than before... he hadn't even thought of the possibility that it was night in San Francisco. He had woken her up. Yea... he was a great father. Her image became clearer. "You still there?"

"Yea..." A tear rolled down his cheek. "I'm here baby. God I haven't seen you in... ages. You're beautiful." He admitted. She blushed and he could see it even in the dim light.

"Yea, in my pajamas with my hair all messed up. Really beautiful there." She laughed. It was like rain on a hot tin roof. It was beautiful. "So how do you like the _Enterprise_, Daddy?"

"Ummm... it's... great. What about Starfleet? How are you doing, kid?" It seemed odd to jump into such familiar conversation when he hadn't seen her since her third birthday.

"Starfleet is great. I have the best teachers and look..." She motioned to her left. "The best room mate because she's not killing me right now." Her smile was wide and brilliant. He really couldn't find a flaw in this kid... his kid.

"Are you healthy? Everything going okay?"

"Yea, Dad, I'm fine." She sat back down at the desk in front of the camera. "No skinned up knees or big bullies pushing me around on the playground. Now... you have to tell me about the warp systems on that ship. They have to be amazing..."

McCoy snorted. "Seriously? I haven't seen you in fifteen years and you want to talk warp mechanics?" She shrugged. "You're majoring in engineering, aren't you?"

"Yep." She grinned. "I would have been a doctor like my old man, but it didn't seem like to glamorous a life until he saved the world and everything."

"The blue would have matched your eyes." He commented.

"But the red matches my hair." She laughed.

"Red is dangerous." It was an off handed comment... It had been three years aboard the _Enterprise_, and McCoy could put patterns together well enough to know that in the middle of a fight, you really wanted to be in any other color than red.

"What? Why?" The young woman seemed somewhat put off.

"Industry secret dear... if I told you I'd have to kill you." They both laughed at this and then fell into a contemplative silence.

"When will you be back?" She asked after a while.

"I won't be planet-side for another two years... but Kirk has a way of getting us into some serious scraps. Maybe I'll be there sooner than I think."

"Captain Kirk? Oh! What's he like?" Her eyes lit up. He knew that glint. He recognized it from her mother, back in the days when she wasn't a walking bitch tree.

"He's not your type. Plus he's way to old for you..." McCoy dismissed the idea playfully.

"But Daddy!" She pleaded. "Everyone here talks about him all the time. Imagine if I got to meet him. I'd be amazing by association."

"Everyone? Really..." He made a side note to keep that information away from his friend, for fear one more ounce of praise cause his already over-inflated ego to explode. "No matter, you're already amazing and you don't need Kirk's handshake to affirm that." He paused a moment. "Look at us carrying on like we've known each other forever..."

"Well, technically we have." She smiled. That glint in her eye had become a tear.

"Oh, don't cry. Please..."

"I'm not sad." She said reassuringly, wiping her eyes. "I'm just really happy. I'm really proud of you, Daddy." It had been a long time since someone had told him they were proud of him... in fact he wasn't sure he had ever heard it.

It took a moment before McCoy could speak again, "I'm proud of you too. More than you can ever imagine. I've missed you baby."

"I've missed you too." She yawned and then blushed again. "Sorry."

"No, no, no. If I remember anything from the academy it's that mornings are hell. Go get some sleep kiddo. Sorry to wake you up."

"I'm glad you did."

"Call me any time." He reminded her; She reached forward to cut the communication. "And I love you!" He exclaimed before the static resumed.

The last thing he saw was her laugh, and he heard her say through the distance, "I love you too, Daddy."


End file.
